


Take That Off, What Are You?

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Iron Man 3, M/M, Stan Lee Cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: There had been a lot of things Steve had seen on his trip across America that he hadn’t expected, but if there had been one thing he certainly would never have thought would happen, it would have been falling into bed with Tony Stark.Of course, like everything between them, it isn't exactly smooth sailing after that. Especially when the Mandarin shows up.





	Take That Off, What Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a tribute to Iron Man 3 for the Cap/IM Ten Years MCU Tribute event. I chose IM3 because I love Tony's arc in it, especially his interactions with Harley. But it is sorely lacking Steve, so look! I fixed it! I didn't want to mess with canon too much by having Steve come along for the showdown, so the only real divergence is that Pepperony was never a thing in this version - sorry Pep.  
> Thanks for the cheerleading, orbingarrow!

“The story starts on the helicarrier. Amazingly, that isn’t even the most bizarre part of this story.

You could say our story begins in Stuttgart, to the fanfare of some terribly loud rock music, and you’d be right, but _this_ story starts on a flying carrier ship - sorry, an _invisible_ flying carrier ship - in a lab, with a man who sometimes turns into a giant rage monster, a god from a parallel realm, and a whole number of other impressive people. And a magical sceptre that was probably having a grand old time playing with our minds. 

_“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”_

In hindsight, I definitely started it.

_“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.”_

Not my brightest moment. Sure, there was the sceptre messing with our heads, but still. I should’ve had myself better under control.

_“You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play.”_

Boy, was I wrong on that one.

But we made our peace, eventually. Maybe it was just more of a truce. Once it was all said and done, once Thor had taken Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard, we all went our separate ways again. Romanoff and Barton went back to SHIELD, Stark took Banner to get set up in his Tower in New York. As for me, I headed out on my bike. I’d been asleep so long, I felt like I didn’t even know this country anymore. How do you come back from that, you know? Missing seventy years, waking up in the future, losing all your friends, aliens … 

I needed to get my head back on straight, and I thought that would be the best way to do it - just me and my bike, with the wind in my hair …

I only made it to Paramus before they pulled me over. Turns out, these days you have to wear a helmet.

I zig-zagged across the country for a while, and eventually I arrived in Los Angeles. I hated it. It was full without the vibrant rush of New York, there was so much traffic, somehow even the smog smelled worse than New York. But Malibu … Malibu is like its own little paradise world, where the sun always shines and the tides roll in and out, the ocean lapping softly against the beach. And smack in the heart of it all is Tony Stark’s mansion. 

Was.

To be honest, I was a bit surprised to find out that Tony had moved back to Malibu. Last I had heard when I left New York was that he was going to be living in his new Tower, but I guess with all the damage it had taken during the Battle, and maybe the memories of what happened - well, whatever it was, Tony was back in California and he’d told me to swing by, so that’s what I did. We’re teammates, after all …”

***

It was late afternoon when Steve Rogers pulled his motorcycle into the driveway of Tony Stark’s house in Malibu. The sun hung in the middle of the sky, casting a shadow across the entrance as Steve parked his bike, took off his helmet, dismounted, and strode up to the doorway. He looked around for a doorbell and, not finding one, was about to knock when a voice greeted,

“Good afternoon, Captain Rogers.”

Steve blinked for a second, thrown off by the disembodied voice. It was the same voice from the Tower in New York, he recognized a beat later. “Oh, hello JARVIS.”

The door swung open. “It’s good to see you again, Captain Rogers. Please, make yourself at home. There are refreshments on the table to which you may help yourself. I’m afraid Mr. Stark is otherwise occupied at the moment.”

“Alright, thank you.” Steve was gritting his teeth, he realized, and forced himself to ease up as he stepped inside. Any annoyance he felt at Tony not being there to greet him dissipated as his gaze swept through the house, over the wide open living room and the expansive view of the ocean through the seemingly endless window, over the veritable buffet of fruit, cheese, juices and other snacks laid out on the table in front to the long couch, over the art on the walls - was that a Kandinsky? (Steve stepped closer. It was.)

JARVIS had told him to help himself, and Steve’s stomach rumbled to remind him that it had been a while since lunch, so Steve took a seat on the surprisingly comfortable couch and picked up a handful of grapes. He’d just popped them in his mouth when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the floor below.

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Tony called out by greeting, jogging up the steps two at a time.

Steve gulped the grapes down half-chewed as he jumped back to his feet. “Stark. Thank you for inviting me.”

Tony waved him off nonchalantly. “Sit, sit. Glad you made it. Oh good, the food came. Here, eat. I’m starving.” Tony dropped onto the couch opposite Steve, picked a single cube of cheese off the platter and popped it in his mouth. “Tell me about your trip. How’s America doing?” he asked as he chewed.

“It’s doing alright,” Steve replied. “Changed a bit since … Well, things are different, for sure. It was a good ride, though. I’ve enjoyed it.”

Tony nodded idly. “Good. Good.”

A quiet moment passed, which seemed to stretch on. Both men leaned forward to take some of the food, each offering to the other to go first. Steve gestured for Tony to go ahead, Tony insisted that Steve, as the guest, should help himself. Steve took a mini-tart.

There was so much they hadn’t said to each other. It would have been a stretch to say that Steve had spent the whole trip thinking about all the things he wanted (needed?) to say to Stark, but it had certainly crept into his thoughts again and again as the miles passed, when forests and hills gave way to long stretches of flat fields and then dry plateaus, when he tried and failed to sleep at night. Thing was, now that he was here, he had no idea where to start.

“Bike’s been acting up a bit since the desert,” Steve finally said into the silence.

That got Tony’s attention. His eyebrows shot up. “I could take a look at it for you, if you like.”

Steve allowed himself to smile. “That’d be great, Tony.”

***

Steve had planned to spend two nights in Malibu. It was a good thing his plans weren’t set in stone.

Tony gave him a tour of his house (compound might be more accurate) after they ate, showed him to the guest room (one of many) that had been prepared for him, then took him down to his workshop and garage. Steve couldn’t help but let out a long whistle when he saw Tony’s collection of cars, his impressive gadgetry, his robots (!), the line of Iron Man suits.

“So this is where it all started? Iron Man?”

A frown flickered over Tony’s face before he shrugged with a smile, the pasted-on smirk Steve had seen Tony use to deflect. He gestured around them. “Mark II and subsequent models, all born right here.”

Right. Mark I was in Afghanistan. Steve’s memory flicked back to the file he’d been given, just after he’d woken up. It was better not to push, he decided, so instead he pointed to the one car he recognized. “Is that a Ford Flathead?”

The smile on Tony’s face turned real. “Sure is, Cap.”

Steve listened as Tony prattled on about the car. They brought Steve’s bike down the curved ramp into the garage and Tony offered a steady stream of narration as he set to work going over the bike. Steve picked up one of the cloths that lay on the workbench and wiped the bike down as Tony tinkered.

It was nice. Relaxing. Easy.

Maybe they didn’t need to talk about the things they’d said on the helicarrier just yet.

***

There had been a lot of things Steve had seen on his trip that he hadn’t expected, but if there had been one thing he certainly would never have thought would happen, it would have been falling into bed with Tony Stark.

He’d been in Malibu four days already. His bike was up and running again, smoother than before he’d left. Tony had taken him into LA to see the sights - the Walk of Fame (complete with a commentary on many of the names it featured), Rodeo Drive, the Hollywood Sign, Dodger Stadium (yeah, Steve was never gonna get over that shock). They went to the SI headquarters and Tony showed him the facility’s new arc reactor and its museum housing the car Howard Stark had displayed at the expo all those years ago. He also introduced Steve to Pepper Potts, the new CEO of Stark Industries. She was an impressive woman, keeping step with Tony’s quick wit in an almost dizzying banter. And she had impeccable taste in art. (“Did you and her ever …?” Steve asked Tony later. “What, fondue?” Tony had replied with a fiendish grin. His father must have passed that story on, then. “God no. I was grooming her to take over my company. That would have been very, _very_ inappropriate. Besides, Pepper’s smarter than to throw in with the likes of me.” Steve had wanted to refute that last statement, but he’d kept his mouth shut, worried about what he might have said coming out wrong.) The day had ended with Steve and Tony meandering along the pier in Santa Monica, ice cream dripping on their hands as it melted even though it was October, the sun casting an array of reds, oranges and pinks over the horizon.

Steve had watched Tony lick ice cream off his thumb, his skin glowing in the light of the sun, a few colorful sprinkles caught in that ridiculous facial hair of his, and he’d caught himself wanting to reach out and wipe it away.

_Bad idea, Rogers_ , he’d warned himself, focusing on his own dripping cone instead.

He hadn’t been able to sleep that night, and by three a.m., he’d finally given up and decided to wander back out into the living room to watch the waves rolling in.

Except there’d been light coming up from the workshop floor, so he’d padded downstairs, the concrete steps cold on his bare feet. He’d stopped at the bottom of the steps, watching through the glass windows. Tony was working away on one of the gloves of the Iron Man suit, completely focused on the item in front of him. There was a deep line between his brows, a slight downturn to his lips as he turned the screwdriver to tighten a screw. His biceps flexed as he moved - he wore only a dark tank top, the center cut out where his arc reactor sat.

Steve swallowed. He’d never seen the arc reactor so clearly before - sure, the light shone through the other shirts Tony wore, especially the threadbare rock band shirts he seemed to prefer to wear, but this was different. He wasn’t even _trying_ to hide it. 

Suddenly Tony stopped working and looked up. The furrow in his brow softened as he saw Steve, a thin smile spread across his lips.

“Come on in, Cap,” he said, and Steve heard the door click open.

One of the bots - the one labeled DUM-E - whirred and seemed to look up at Steve as he stepped into the workshop, then settled back into what looked like the robotic equivalent of a sleeping position.

“Looks like even your robots are better at sleeping than us, huh?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Tony shrugged. He set the glove down again and stepped back onto some sort of platform. “Here, check this out. JARVIS, drop my needle.”

Somewhere behind them, Steve heard a record player being started, and music began to play. A jazz rendition of “Dashing Through the Snow.”

“Bit early, don’t you think?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Shhhh,” Tony said, raising a hand to his lips as he closed his eyes and started to move in time with the music.

God, it was like sex, seeing Tony move like that, his arms raised above his head as he seemed to bathe in the rhythm of the song, hips swaying tantalizingly. 

Steve stood a little straighter, suddenly aware of how very thin his sleep pants were.

Tony opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over Steve with an impish smile before it settled on the glove on the workbench. Steve watched as Tony wiggled his arm. The glove seemed to vibrate, then whirred quietly as it lifted into the air and flew at Tony, who held his hand out for the glove to fly onto.

“Tony! Wow, that was … that was amazing.”

Tony smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Steve rolled his eyes and groaned. “Not what I meant, Stark.”

Tony stepped towards him, other parts of the Iron Man suit flying towards him (some a little too quickly) and settling around his body as he crossed the room until he was right in front of Steve and only the faceplate was left. It lay on a table a few yards away, vibrating angrily (if metal objects can be described as angry).

“Better watch out. This one’s always a bit tricky,” Tony breathed, mere inches away from Steve.

It was dizzying, to have Tony so close, looking down at him from inside his suit, and Steve longed to -

Steve caught the faceplate as it hurtled towards them, crushing it with his hand as he surged up, one hand around the neck of the Iron Man suit, and pressed a kiss against Tony’s lips.

Tony let out a surprised “Hrmm!”, the suit teetered back half a step, then Iron Man’s arms were wrapping around Steve, clutching him, and Tony’s tongue was licking up into his mouth. Tony kissed like he fought - with laser-sharp focus, like it was a dance, with an intense ferocity interspersed with jokes that left Steve wondering if he was even taking any of this seriously.

“That was, like, six figures worth of property damage,” Tony mumbled between kisses. His hands wandered over Steve’s body, grabbing hold of his ass just hard enough to almost hurt. He pulled Steve close, pressing him into the suit. 

It had been a long time since Steve had felt this vulnerable. This _alive_.

“Bill me,” he growled, pulling hard at the back of Tony’s (the suit’s?) neck. 

Tony let himself be pulled, the suit edging into Steve, in turn pushing Steve backward against the workbench. 

Steve’s hands came up to grip him, to hold him - he wasn’t really sure at that point. All he knew was he was dreading this moment ending in case one of them got a stupid idea like putting a stop to whatever was about to happen.

_God_ he wanted this. 

There was a sound of metal being bent.

“Ah, fuck, Steve,” Tony muttered. He pulled back, slipped away as Steve let him go. The pieces of the suit clattered to the floor until it was just Tony standing in front of him, the Iron Man suit strewn around him, the reactor glowing in his chest as he panted slightly. 

“We should…” Steve started.

“Bedroom’s up two flights,” Tony said at the same time. Their eyes met, each wordlessly asking the other what he wanted to do. It was Tony who turned first for the stairs. Steve didn’t need to be told twice, following quickly behind.

Tony’s bedroom was massive, with a bed about the size of a football field angled to face the sweeping panorama window overlooking the ocean, and Steve took exactly three seconds to look around the room before deciding what he was really interested in was right in from of him, shedding clothing one piece at a time.

The other view would still be there in the morning, after all.

Tony’s gaze was off to the side as he unbuttoned his jeans, the lines of his neck pulled taut, inviting. There was the sound of his zipper being undone and he slid his jeans down, boxers with them. When Tony stood again, pants kicked aside, his half-hard dick on full display, the arc reactor and the full moon the only sources of light in the room, his eyes were fixed on Steve, a challenging look that seemed to say “What are you gonna do with this?”

It was almost too much. Steve almost wanted to look away, to say this was a mistake, that they shouldn’t do this. That they were teammates, that it was a bad idea, that they clearly weren’t thinking straight.

But he didn’t. Maybe it was the sheer stubbornness of not wanting to back down from what was clearly a challenge, maybe it was just that Tony was fucking hot and, well, Steve wanted him.

So he met Tony’s gaze, held it as he undid his own pants and slid them off, as he stepped across the room to where Tony stood. He stopped when they were mere inches apart, Tony’s breath ghosting over Steve’s exposed skin. 

The challenge was still there in Tony’s eyes - _back out now if you want; betcha won’t follow through_ \- when Steve leaned forward, both of them closing their eyes at the very last second before their lips crashed together.

***

The bed was empty when Steve woke up. The windows brightened somewhat as he sat up, but it was definitely still early. Steve ran his hand over the rumpled sheets; they were cold.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the memory of the night before flashing through his mind, of Tony’s lips on his, of Tony spread out beneath him, of his dick disappearing inside of Tony, of the way Tony had felt around him, of slick heat and low groans and confessions made in the throes of passion and Christ, of Tony shouting Steve’s name as he’d come.

Steve wiped his palm across face as if it would help clear his memory. He glanced over to the empty bed again, the dip in the pillow practically staring at him, taunting him, screaming at him - ‘TONY ISN’T HERE!’

It suddenly seemed very important to know what time it was. There wasn’t a clock to be seen, of course. Steve was fairly certain that, if he asked, JARVIS would pipe up and tell him the time, but the thought of talking to someone - even if that someone wasn’t human - was more than Steve could bear.

He pushed himself up off the bed, more slowly than necessary, as if leaving the bed meant the final end for _whatever this was_.

It was already over, was the thing. It had been over the moment Tony had left the bed.

Steve took his time taking a shower, gathering his clothes. Part of him kept hoping Tony might come back, that he’d just been out getting coffee, maybe. 

Tony didn’t come back.

Steve headed down the hall to the guest bedroom where he’d been staying. He got dressed, packed the rest of his things into his bags. He checked his phone for the time - 7:35 AM. He should leave. Tony clearly wanted him to leave, that much was sure. This had been a mistake.

He brought his bags downstairs with him, deposited them near the door. He looked around, let his gaze sweep through the empty living room, across the stretch of ocean beyond the windows. It was the most breathtaking view he had ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from here.

Tony was nowhere to be seen on the ground level, which meant he was probably down in his workshop. 

As suspected, there he was, bent over his workbench, safety glasses pulled down to shield his eyes as he worked. He looked … the first word that came to mind was _gaunt_. His hair was all over the place, there were dark rings around his eyes. 

 

Tony looked up when the door opened and Steve stepped in. Steve thought (hoped?) he saw a smile flicker across Tony’s face, but it was gone instantly when Tony’s gaze dropped to the keys hanging from Steve’s forefinger, replaced by a guarded look. 

“Oh,” he said. “You’re heading out, then.”

“Fury wants me in New York.”

“And you just love marching to the beat of his drum,” Tony shot back, his attention turned back to the faceplate he’d been tinkering with.

Steve straightened his stance, folded his arms in front of him. “A team only works when its members follow its leader.”

Tony let out a derisive huff. “Well, have fun marching, Cap. I’m just a consultant, after all.”

“You know-” Steve started. He was about to counter that if Tony were more of a team player, Fury might be more forthcoming. But he could imagine exactly where that conversation would go, how it would end up, and he didn’t have the energy right then. He just wanted to get on the road and put all of this behind him.

“Thanks for the help with the bike,” he said instead. “And for putting me up.” 

Tony looked up, finally, and set down his screwdriver. “Yeah, well, that’s what I do. I fiddle with things. You ever need anything _fiddled with,_ you know where to find me.”

His tone dripped with insinuation; he might just as well have come out and accused Steve of just using him for motorcycle maintenance and a quick fuck. Which was ridiculous, when Tony had been the one to leave, when it was Tony who clearly hadn’t wanted anything more. 

Steve felt his jaw clench. He needed to get out of here.

“Thanks again,” he said as he turned toward the garage, where his bike was parked.

He pointedly did not turn around to see Tony’s reaction, though he could hear Tony pick up his screwdriver again, the scrape of metal on metal, then, as Steve pushed his bike out of the garage, the sound of metal crashing against concrete followed by a muffled string of expletives.

It was better this way. Sure, there was an attraction there, but he and Tony were clearly volatile, like oil and water. They had to work together on the team; the only way they’d be able to do so was if they kept a professional distance.

***

“It was two weeks later that the Mandarin first showed up. Suddenly the airwaves had been taken over and all any televisions showed were his gruesome messages, ominous warnings. Then the attacks started, and I wanted desperately to get out there, to track this guy down. But SHIELD said to stand down, that this wasn’t our “scope of activity.” That it was something the country’s forces would handle. Far be it for me to challenge that.

And then the Mandarin hit LA, and things got personal. I was out with Natasha - she’d wanted ice cream, so we were walking down Broadway, we’d just passed an electronics store, and there was Tony, on every screen in the window, telling the Mandarin to come find him.”

***

“I need to go to LA.”

“Steve.”

“Tony’s - he’s obviously not well. Not thinking straight. Probably hasn’t been sleeping. Fuck!” Steve kicked at a garbage can, which flew a few dozen yards. 

“Shit.” 

He jogged after it, waved in apology to the tourists it had almost hit, picked the can up and put it back where it had been. It teetered for a moment, its underside now dented, but it stayed upright. 

“Shit. I shouldn’t have left him. I need to get out there.”

Natasha nodded. He hadn’t told her what had happened between him and Tony when he’d been out there, but she seemed to understand. 

“I can get you a quinjet.” He was about to thank her when she added, “Not sure you’ll make it in time, though. Those guys work quick.”

***

“I didn’t make it in time. By the time I got there, all that was left was the driveway and a trail of debris along the side of the cliff, all the way down to the ocean. Where Tony lay buried by his house.”

***

It was Pepper’s hand on his arm that pulled Steve out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized he’d wandered so close to the ledge, glaring down at the waves battering the cliffs as if that might make them stop. They’d seemed so peaceful, those waves, last time Steve had been there.

“Steve.”

He turned toward her, almost afraid to meet her gaze. He didn’t know if Tony had told Pepper anything about what had happened between them. It seemed like a breach of trust to tell anyone now, but he knew one look would give him away.

He was right.

“Steve,” she repeated, her voice warm with empathy. She pulled him in for a hug, which he gladly accepted, not sure if it was meant to comfort him or if she was seeking comfort. Probably both in equal measure.

“I can’t believe…” Steve started but gave up, not sure what he was trying to say. Not sure he wanted to put in words what he was trying to express. 

“I know.” Pepper brought her hand up to touch Steve’s cheek, her thumb running over his temple. “Me too.”

They’d found the helmet from one of Tony’s suits. Pepper handed it to him with a sad frown before turning to leave him sitting on a low wall that had once been part of Tony’s house. It seemed almost macabre, holding the bodiless helmet.

“A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy,” Steve muttered, pressing the forehead of the helmet to his own. That was when he heard it, ever so faint - beeping. He turned the helmet over to see a tiny blinking red light. Something stirred in him, and Steve found himself putting on the helmet.

The heads-up display lit up, something scanned his eye, and then Tony’s voice was in his ears. It took all the strength in Steve’s legs not to crumple at the sound - luckily, there was a low wall behind him.

“Steve, it’s me. I’ve got a lot to apologize for and not a lot of time, so let me start with the easy stuff. I’m sorry things ended the way they did. I’m sorry I didn’t go after you - I was foolish, and wrapped up in my own issues. I’m a mess, Steve. You’d have figured that out soon enough, though. There’s so much we didn’t get to say to each other, and that was probably my fault. Thing is, those couple of days we had were some of the best I’ve had, definitely the best since - since New York. Thing is, I miss you. But I can’t come back yet. I need to take care of this. This is something I need to do. I hope you’ll understand. I need to do this. Take care of yourself, Steve.”

Steve pulled the helmet off again, relieved to breathe the fresh sea air again.

_Tony is alive_. 

***

“Of course, Tony being alive meant he had to be _somewhere_ , but the thing is, he didn’t show up in any of the places where one would have thought he would be. He wasn’t in New York, he wasn’t in California, he wasn’t even at the old Stark facility upstate. And, you know, it was weird, since things had ended how they’d ended between us and Tony had said that this was something he needed to do, so I wanted to respect that, but on the other hand, I just needed to find him, to make sure he was okay.

So I did some digging, and it turned out there was some weird stuff going on down in Tennessee that seemed a little… out of the ordinary. Which is basically Tony’s MO. So that’s where I headed, and I eventually ran into this kid called Harley. Bright kid. I can see why Tony had taken to him - they’re a lot alike in so many ways. He’s smart as a whip, quick to adapt, a little too sure of himself, and he absolutely will _not_ shut up. Tony had just left when I got there, Harley told me, but he showed me the suit that Tony had left behind. Which got me worried, because Tony without his suit is a whole hell of a lot more vulnerable. I was about to go after him, down to Miami, but Harley said Tony had tasked him with getting the suit up and running again, and Tony would have called me if he’d wanted me there - at least I hope that he would have - so I stayed behind and Harley and I got to work making sure that damn suit was gonna fly.”

***

“So, you and Tony, are you guys, like, friends?” 

Steve and Harley were hard at work on getting the suit to charge. It was a bit like the blind leading the blind, since Harley was just a kid and, well, electronics weren’t exactly Steve’s area of expertise, but they were doing alright so far. JARVIS had even blinked into consciousness (if one can call it that) a few times, though he’d just flickered out again. Harley had been peppering him with questions all afternoon - first about being an Avenger, and Captain America, and what had it been like coming back after all that time in the ice, and did he miss his old friends and his old life, and did he sometimes wish he hadn’t been found, and why hadn’t he told them where he was going to crash the plane, and - well, it had been a _lot_ of questions.

“Tony and I... have a difficult history.”

“Do you want to be friends?” 

“Yes. Yes, I want to be his friend.”

“Do you want to be more than his friend?”

“You sure don’t beat around the bush, do you, son?”

“I’m not your son and you’re not my father,” Harley snapped back, “cuz my father left and my mom says I don’t have father cuz I don’t need a father.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I- it’s a turn of phrase. Figure of speech. Sorry.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you in love with him?”

“That wasn’t your question.”

“It is now. Do you think he’s in love with you?”

“You didn’t wait for me to answer.”

“Yeah, but you kinda did. Do you think he’s in love with you?”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh and set down his pliers before rubbing his hand down over his face. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want him to be?”

“Geez, kid, you sure got a lotta questions for such a little kid.”

“I’m twelve.”

“Still pretty small.”

“Can’t all get upgraded with secret serum.”

Steve felt his jaw clench. The kid had a point. Steve had been out of line. He’d let the kid get the best of him, with his incessant prodding and endless questions. 

“I’m sorry,” he ground out. “I shouldn’t have said that. I remember how it was, being small, feeling like no one was hearing you because they all thought you were too small to bother with. Feeling like you didn’t matter.”

“Still haven’t answered my question.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, alright? Yes, I want him to be in love with me. Yes, I have feelings for him. Yes, we had something, but I- I screwed up. I made some mistakes, we both did, said some things we didn’t mean. Didn’t say some things we probably needed to. But I know now that I was wrong, and I want to fix it.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then let’s fix this.” Harley poked at the suit’s chestpiece. “For Tony.”

“For Tony.”

***

“So we got the suit working, and it flew off to find Tony, and it must have found him, because that was all the news could talk about the next day. I mean, you musta seen it - Tony Stark rescues thirteen people from crashing Air Force One. Tony Stark saves president, stops enhanced extremists. Well, that’s about half the truth, but you know how the media is. 

So that’s that. We helped Tony and Rhodes save the day. All in a day’s work, I suppose.”

“Well what’re you doin’ here, then?”

Steve looks up from the pattern in the steel tabletop he’s been staring at for the last hour. The old man he’s been speaking to is shooting him a Look over the edge of his glasses, one of those looks that just screams “stop being an idiot, you idiot.”

“Hmm?” Steve asks, not sure how to react.

“Ya obviously love him, and he obviously loves you, so go talk to him, ya moron.”

“I can’t just-”

A hand bats at the back of Steve’s head. Steve ducks, too late, and glares at the old man, who curls his hands around his coffee cup once again and leans back in his chair.

“Yes, you can. He’s right across the street.” The man points up at the Tower casting a shadow over the cafe. “Flew by while you were busy with your little pity party.”

Steve frowns, realizes he’s frowning, and pastes on a neutral face. “Alright, I will,” he says as he reaches for his wallet, tucks a twenty under his coffee cup. “Don’t go skimming any of that tip,” he warns the old man before he gets up to leave.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” the man calls after him.

His heart is racing when he reaches the Tower, and it’s probably not from the short jog over. The designated elevator all the way in the back of the lobby slides open with a greeting (“Welcome, Captain Rogers.”) as he approaches, followed by “Good to have you back in New York” as it ascends to the team floors.

“Good to have _you_ back, JARVIS. I need to talk to Tony.”

“Yes, Captain. He is on the science lab floor. Alone.” 

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

The elevator doors slide open a few moments later, and Steve steps out into a gleaming space that looks like something out of a science fiction movie, with holoscreens and robotic arms and microscopes and … Steve has no idea what half of this stuff is. It makes Tony’s workshop in his Malibu house look like a hobby space. Which, to be fair, it kind of was.

The tech becomes tangential, though, as soon as Steve’s eyes settle on the reason he came here. Tony’s back is to him - he’s engrossed in whatever he’s doing, which looks like picking out parts from a holodisplay and swiping them away but is probably some form of very advanced science. He’s arguing with his project, JARVIS snarking back, and it catches Steve by surprise again, the idea that JARVIS could be showing Steve where to go at the same time as he’s helping Tony. But of course he can, because JARVIS is an AI and so he can be in multiple places at the same time.

Steve’s shoes creak on the shining white floors, and Tony turns to find the source of the sound. He freezes when he sees Steve.

“Tony.”

“Capsicle. Welcome to my lair.”

Steve smiles, runs his fingers along the edge of a metal table as he crosses the lab toward where Tony is.

“I came to bring you this.” Steve pulls the faceplate from the Malibu house out from inside his jacket - he’s been keeping it close these past few days, his own little part of Tony. Their fingers brush as he presses it into Tony’s hand. “Thanks for the message.”

The edges of Tony’s mouth curl up in a smile before he seems to push it down again, and Tony brings his empty hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I had some things I needed to have said. That I wanted you to have heard.”

Steve takes another step closer. They’re inches away now; Steve can feel the air shift between them as they breathe, the heat coming off Tony’s body despite the air conditioning in the lab. His fingers are still on Tony’s where they’re both holding the faceplate.

“It was good to hear it. That was pretty impressive, what you did, you and Rhodey. Taking down the Mandarin.”

“You really should talk to Rhodey. I mean, seriously, saving the president? That seems like the kind of patriotic drama you’d be into, Spangles. And Harley, heard you met him. Good kid, that one. Thanks for helping out, by the way. See, it was a team effort. Couldn’t’ve done it without all of you. I mean, what I did? Just a robots versus zombies showdown, really. With a side of save the princess. Spoiler alert: robots win, princess saves herself.”

Steve huffs out a laugh as he reaches out to pull Tony closer, wraps his arms around him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Tony.”

Tony lets out a sigh and leans his head against Steve’s chest. “I’m not. I mean, I’m not dead, but I’m not okay. I will be, though. I think.”

There’s a long pause before Tony adds, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m sorry I left.”

“Me too. I mean, I’m sorry I acted in a way that made you feel you needed to leave. I just- I’ve got a lot going on right now, in my head, and it’s really tough sometimes- I don’t sleep well, nothing feels right, I can’t stop thinking about the- about the-” Tony pointed towards the sky. “It’s hard, being here, in New York. I keep thinking that wormhole is gonna open up again. And I knew you wanted to come back here, and that I wouldn’t be able to come along, so I guess I just … didn’t fight for you to stay. It’s easier to push people away than to figure things out. Story of my life, really. Only people who stay are on the payroll. Or Rhodey, but honestly, I think he’s probably a little touched in the head or something. Don’t know what he-”

Steve cuts Tony’s rant off by reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Tony,” he says softly. He drinks in the way Tony stills at his touch, the way Tony looks up at him, eyes wide.

“We’ll figure this out.”

Tony lets out a quiet huff. “Oh yeah? I know I’m supposed to be the Mr. Fix-It guy around here, but I’m fresh out of ideas on this one. How do you figure we’re gonna do that, sugarplum?”

Steve runs his thumb over the line of Tony’s jaw, along that ridiculous goatee of his, to tilt Tony’s face up so he can press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Together,” he replies.


End file.
